


What We Deserve (And What We Don't)

by mmmargo



Category: Shameless (US), Shameless - Fandom
Genre: 11x03, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Violence, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Not Canon Compliant, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Relationship(s), Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Ian Gallagher, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Talking, Therapy, Veronica is iconic, Victim Blaming, shameless 11x03, wow my tags arent usually this serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28890807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmargo/pseuds/mmmargo
Summary: Mickey had been in Mexico for about three weeks before he met Alexander.It was dark and hot that night. He missed the cold winters of Chicago and the frozen streets, he missed staying inside and keeping warm with Ian when he would wrap his large arms around his waist and pull him closer and place a small kiss on his forehead.Shit, he thought. He always did that.It’s been three weeks since Ian left him. Again. The word keeps ringing in his ears. Again. Again. Again. He left him again. At first, he was angry, furious that Ian told him he loved him but couldn’t bring himself to get behind the wheel. Furious that Ian made him do this alone. That’s what he was; alone. That’s what he always was.---Mickey has trauma. Ian and Mickey talk about it.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mickey Milkovich/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 120





	What We Deserve (And What We Don't)

**Author's Note:**

> This has many mentions of domestic violence and abuse and implied/referenced sexual assault. Please read tags before reading. Take care of yourself :)  
> Also, I got a comment on one of my previous works asking for this prompt. Happy belated birthday, Sara, I hope you enjoy it.

_ Mickey had been in Mexico for about three weeks before he met Alexander. _

_ It was dark and hot that night. He missed the cold winters of Chicago and the frozen streets, he missed staying inside and keeping warm with Ian when he would wrap his large arms around his waist and pull him closer and place a small kiss on his forehead.  _

Shit,  _ he thought. He always did that.  _

_ It’s been three weeks since Ian left him. Again. The word keeps ringing in his ears. Again. Again. Again. He left him again. At first, he was angry, furious that Ian told him he loved him but couldn’t bring himself to get behind the wheel. Furious that Ian made him do this alone. That’s what he was; alone. That’s what he always was.  _

_ Then he started to think that maybe he deserved to be.  _

_ Maybe he deserved to be on the run, alone.  _

There’s a word for that _ , he thought again, absolutely drunk out of his mind. He couldn’t think straight so he went for a drink, sue him. It’s just that a drink turned into ten and now he couldn’t stop, didn’t  _ want _ to stop.  _

_ He was sitting in a bar with red seats and blue lighting. It was called something he couldn’t pronounce, the Ouroboros or some shit. It wasn’t the Alibi, it didn’t have all the memories that bar had. Of his big coming out, of Kev’s and his Rug-and-Tug. Of him walking in with Ian, holding his hand, completely unafraid.  _

_ That was when he saw him, Alexander. He was pretty but muscular. Tall, dark, and handsome. Other than his soft features and height, everything about him was different than Ian. He had dark skin, pitch-black hair, and deep brown eyes.  _

Might as well get railed while I’m here,  _ he thought,  _ it’s not like I’m seeing someone. 

_ It stung but it was true. He went over to Alexander who was sitting idly, nursing a beer. At first, when he got up, he swayed a bit and his vision blurred for a minute. He shook his head and sauntered over.  _

_ Alexander looked his way and smiled, he looked him up and down and nodded toward the door.  _

_ Mickey nodded back, letting Alexander lead the way.  _

_ They ended up in an alley with Mickey bent over some kind of metal mass, he was too drunk to care if it was a dumpster. Alexander was a good fuck, didn’t touch him though. Didn’t kiss him either, just took what he wanted and zipped up his pants.  _

_ Mickey laughed. He remembered the word he was trying to think of,  _ ironic _. That was exactly how he was with Ian, terrified to touch him lest he get addicted. Too afraid to kiss because what if he couldn’t stop? What if he started to love him?  _

_ Then he did. Then he fell hard. Everything Ian did and said was stuck in Mickey’s mind. Every move and glance and eye roll. He loved it. He loved him.  _

_ But he couldn’t show it. He denied Ian that love that deserved for so long, denied him of the affection he wanted. All because he was a coward, a pussy. Ian told him as much. He was right to.  _

_ This was what he deserved. To be ignored and deprived of touch. Maybe that’s why Ian left.  _

_ He finally realized how much better he could do.  _

_ The first time Alexander hit him, they had been dating for a week.  _

_ Mickey accidentally called him Alex. Alexander headbutted him.  _

_ He didn’t mean to call him that but it didn’t matter. Alexander hated the name, he wouldn’t explain why. He had just told him time and time again that every time someone called him that, he wanted to stab them.  _

_ Mickey didn’t fight back. The reason it didn’t matter that he hadn’t meant to say it was because he hadn’t meant to hurt Ian, did he? But he did, this was what he got for it. He deserved it.  _

_ After Alexander was done with him, after he beat him until his lip was swollen and his eye was black, he spits on him. _

_ “You’re lucky I didn’t shiv you, you know that?”  _

_ Mickey nodded and Alexander laughed. _

_ “Good, get up. Wanna fuck tonight.” _

_ Mickey nodded again and got up. He washed his face and took a shower.  _

_ The water was cold, just like at home. When Mandy forgot to pay the bills and Terry beat her for it, he would get in the shower and listen to his sister cry from the other room.  _

_ It was quiet now. There was no sound, only the water hitting Mickey’s chest and the shower wall.  _

_ He hadn’t thought of his father in a while. His fists and furry. Similar to Alexander’s.  _

_ This is what Dr. Phil would call daddy issues. He chuckled but abruptly stopped when he heard Alexander call out, “Hurry the fuck up.” _

_ Mickey turned off the shower and stepped out, dripping wet. He grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist, not bothering to put clothes on since Alexander was just going to rip them off.  _

_ He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his pale skin and black hair and split lip.  _

_ He rubbed the wound and winced, he didn’t want to make it bleed. That would just make Alexander even angrier.  _

This is what I deserve _ , he thought.  _

_ Because it was. This is what he gets. For everything.  _

_ Alexander was his punishment. His jail sentence.  _

_ And he would plead guilty.  _

_ He moved out of the bathroom. Alexander was smoking, the smell wrapped around his throat and choked him. He gagged, though he wasn’t sure why. He smokes all the time.  _

_ He didn’t dwell on the odd reaction right now, he just leaned against the wall.  _

_ “We doing this now or what?” He smiled against his will, he wanted to go along with it. Go along with the idea of loving Alexander, maybe if he pretended for long enough, it would happen.  _

_ Alexander smirked back and manhandled him to the bed.  _

_ Ian used to do that. He was firm but gentle, moving Mickey the way he wanted because he knew Mickey enjoyed it. Alexander moved him roughly because he wanted to and didn’t care what Micket got out of it. _

_ Alexander didn’t waste time prepping him, just grabbed the lube and went to town. This time Alexander touched him, they were jagged strokes but it was something. He will take what he can get.  _

_ Mickey stayed with him for the rest of his time in Mexico. Alexander kept hitting him, kept shoving him into walls, and making him bleed because he felt like it. He took the beatings, though, he took the violence because, in the end, it didn’t matter. Mickey didn’t matter.  _

_ One morning though, he saw something on some kids' shirts. Some ginger fucker with green eyes and freckles who called himself gay Jesus.  _

Fucking Gallagher. 

_ He went home and started packing his shit. He needed to get to Ian. Needed to protect him in jail, needed to make sure he wasn’t alone. _

_ He was working on adrenaline.  _

_ “What do you think you’re doing?”  _ Shit.

_ “I gotta go.” _

_ “No.” _

_ Mickey blinked, “What do you mean no?”  _

_ “I mean you’re not going. Stop packing.”  _

_ Alexander said it casually and it made Mickey’s skin crawl. He sucked in a breath.  _

_ “I have to go. Ian needs me, this was fun but I-” _

_ “Who the fuck is Ian?” Alexander didn’t look so casual. That look in his eyes was the same look his father had. The same look that said, “boy, did you fuck up this time.” _

_ Mickey stepped back. This wasn’t like him, he was never scared of a fight. He took the hits but he wasn’t scared of them. But he couldn’t fight off the feeling, he looked into Alexander’s brown, rage-filled eyes. Maybe he had been scared all those other times, too.  _

_ That didn’t matter. What mattered was Ian. Ian needed him and he wasn’t gonna let this asshat get in the way.  _

_ He went back to packing his shit.  _

_ Then he felt a hand on his shoulder that flipped him around suddenly a fist was colliding with his jaw.  _

_ “You think you can just leave? You think you can just take whatever you want and go?” Alexander kicked his stomach, “After everything I’ve done for you? Why couldn’t you just shut up and listen, huh? Huh, Mick?” _

_ The name, Mick, Ian always said it with such glee. He said it was like he just discovered a new language, he said it like a prayer.  _

_ Alexander said it like he was about to kill him. Because he was going to.  _

_ Mickey kicked his shin and Alexander yelled out, grabbing onto it. He took the gun that was always kept on the nightstand beside Mickey’s bed and held it up to Alexander's face.  _

_ He felt his face get wet.  _

Fuck, am I crying? 

_ Alexander put up his hands and chuckled, “Are you gonna shoot me, Mick?” _

_ He kept taunting him, kept calling him Mick. Mickey kept comparing the way he said it to Ian, how soft and sweet he would say it, sometimes with a hint of annoyance, but always fond. The way this prick says is a sick joke.  _

_ No, he wasn’t going to kill him. Ian wouldn’t want him to.  _

_ He acted quickly, hitting Alexander in the head with the gun. He didn’t have time to wait and see if he was still conscious. He just grabbed his bag and ran out the door.  _

_ He knew what he was going to do. He was going to turn himself in. He was going to be with Ian again.  _

_ \--- _

“Oh, great. Maybe when I fuck you, I won’t feel like such a pedophile.”

“Suck a dick, bitch.”

It’s been like this for weeks. Them being at each other's throats. 

Ian sat down next to him at the bar and Mickey flipped him off. 

He thought it would be different. He thought when they got married, that would be it. They would just be all sunshine and rainbows and fucking and in hindsight, he guessed that was a little bit of the excitement about getting married talking. 

Ian keeps nagging about him getting off the couch and making something of himself and Jerome keeps telling him he’s disappointing the people he loves and now everything just feels… rocky. 

The whole reason he wanted to stay on his honeymoon was because he didn’t want things to change. He wanted to stay happy and thoroughly fucked 24/7, how was that unreasonable? 

He didn’t really know what he was saying at this point. Something about Ian being a girl or him being pretty, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Ian pissed him off with that bitch talk and now he wants to get under his skin. Fuck with him. So they talk shit like they normally do until one of them gets pissed and walks off. 

Except this time, Ian doesn’t walk off. 

Ian hits him. 

Headbutts him right in the face and knocks Mickey off his chair. 

It reminds him of Alexander. 

Alexander headbutting him and beating him until he bled, then insulting the nasty bruises that he put there. 

It reminds him of the first time it happened. The first he laid down and took it because that's what he deserved.

Did he deserve this? Did he take it too far? 

He realized he had been on the ground for too long. He wasn't gonna fight back, if Ian wanted this then maybe he should let him. 

The problem was, Ian hadn't moved.

Mickey guessed Ian expected him to fight back. 

He wouldn't. Not this time. 

Kevin took out his phone and started filming. Tommy and Kermit were staring at him. 

They wanted him to hit back. 

They  _ expected  _ him to hit back. 

His chest tightened and he jumped up. Ian flinched back and prepared himself. 

_ He thinks I'm gonna hurt him.  _

He grabs his jacket and runs out. He gets a block and a half away before he allows himself to sob. He hides in an alley, exactly like the alley Alexander fucked him in when he was too drunk to stand. He holds himself in his arms and drops to the ground. He smells garbage, it makes him gag but the tears won't stop coming and he can't catch his breath so he’s not going to move. 

Then there's a hand on his bicep. 

_ Ian.  _

He opens his eyes and lifts his head. It's not Ian. It's Veronica. 

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

She purses her lips and gives him a look, "Well, I was trying to check on you so maybe shut the fuck up and tell me what the fuck that was." 

He laughs. He always appreciated her bluntness. He doesn't tell her, just shrugs. 

"Where's Ian?" 

"He went home. Thought you would head back there," Veronica stood up and held out a hand to help him up. 

Mickey didn't take it, he nodded a thank you but managed to stand on his own. 

He hesitated, "Was he mad?" He hated how fucking girly he sounded. 

Veronica looked at him with the same look Ian gives him when he tells about the fucked up shit he did when he was a kid. It’s a kind of sympathy with a mix of disbelief. 

"He hit  _ you.  _ He was freaking out when you bolted but he wasn't mad." 

Mickey sighed in relief. At least he wasn't angry with him still. 

"Do you want me to call Ian and tell him you're okay? He's probably worried sick," Veronica starts to take out her phone. 

"No, don't. It's fine," 

Veronica looks at him and he realizes that his eyes probably look puffy and red and he quickly wipes them. 

He never really talked to Veronica much but she was sweet and didn't take any shit. It was relieving to see someone smart in charge of the Alibi after all the questionable choices Kevin made with their business. 

He wondered if they ever fought like this. Probably not. 

"You sure you're okay? Look, it's none of my business but you guys shouldn't hit each other like that. You need to put a stop to that shit." She patted his shoulder and walked away. He idly listened to the sound of her high heels clicking in the distance before he turned. 

He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. He wiped his eyes again for good measure and thought about her words. They should cut the shit.

He thought they would. 

Mickey never really thought about the fights too much. He always excused them, he knew Ian did too. He figured that was just what they do sometimes but after they got married, he thought these kinds of fights would stop. No more violence. Just Ian and Mickey loving each other and being a cheesy couple who wake each other up with kisses and fuck each other to sleep. 

He doesn't blame Ian for hitting him. He was being a dick. But maybe they need to talk about that. Ian was all for this communication thing in the beginning so maybe they should write this down on some cards and flip them over. 

_ Do you want me to hit you, yes or no?  _

Ian would probably put no. Mickey might have to think about his answer before he brings it up. 

He walked back in silence, he put his jacket on and shoved his hands in his pocket. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t just be healthy. Why did it have to be hard? Why did they have to sit down and talk about shit? Why couldn’t they just play Mario Kart in bed all day?

He kicked at some rocks on the ground before turning into the Gallagher yard. He jogged up the steps and realized that he could hear voices coming from inside. 

One was Ian, “I just- I don’t know where he could have gone.”

“Okay, Ian, calm down. He’s an adult, it’s not like he got lost,” that one was Lip. 

“You didn’t see the way he looked though. He was scared. I hit him.” Ian’s voice was getting quieter now, he was losing the panic in his voice and it seemed reality was hitting him. 

“Don’t you guys hit each other sometimes though? It never seemed to be a big deal before, why is it now?” 

That was a good point. 

“It’s not like that. It hasn’t happened for so long and this time he didn’t fight back. Lip, he always fights back. Then we stop and go back to whatever. I don’t get why he didn’t fight back.”

“Call him again.” 

Mickey realized his phone was probably dead at that point because he never felt his phone vibrate or hear his ring tone for Ian. (It was  _ Living On A Prayer,  _ it made him smile every time heard it). 

He had to go in and face the music at some point so it might as well be now. 

He turned the knob and walked into the living room. Lip was standing while Ian was sitting on the couch with his phone to his ear. 

Ian shot up and looked so relieved, it tugged at Mickey’s heart a little.  _ God, I’m a dick,  _ he thought. He caused Ian so much grief just because he was a pussy. 

They all just looked at each other for a while. Lip eventually started to back out. 

“Imma head out since it seems you guys got some stuff to figure. Call me later,” he directed the last bit to Ian. 

Ian didn’t really seem to pay attention though, he just kept staring at Mickey. 

“Mick,”  _ Mick, Mick, Mick, how soft, how sweet, everything he doesn’t deserve,  _ “are you okay?” 

Should he be? He thinks he’s fine, he should be fine. Other than a slight headache, he’s fine.

“Mickey? Are you?” Ian asked again.

Mickey didn’t really know what to say, “Yeah, I’m fine. Whatever.”

Ian looked puzzled, “It’s not whatever. I hit you.”

“We do that all the time,” he used Lip’s words, hoping that would make Ian feel better. It didn’t, apparently. 

“Not all the time but that’s not the point. We shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have hit you, we shouldn’t do that to each other. I’m sorry.” 

_ I deserved it. I deserved it. Don’t apologize. I deserve it.  _

“I said it’s fine. I was being a dick, you had every right to-”

“No, I didn’t. Mick, don’t say shit like that.” 

Mickey looks at Ian who looks so stern. His face isn’t like Alexander, when he reprimanded him, it was just anger, it was  _ you should fucking know better  _ or  _ you deserve this.  _

This was just a concern. It was unusual. 

“Why not? I deserved it.” Mickey started up the stairs. Ian followed him. He walked to the bedroom and threw off his jacket, plopping down on their mattress. 

Ian stood in the doorway, waiting for Mickey to say more. When he didn’t, he cleared his throat

“Why do you think you deserve it?” Ian made his way over Mickey on the bed.  _ Their bed.  _ He kept reminding himself of that. It always made him smile. 

“I just said, I was being a dick to you,” Mickey said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Because it was. Mickey deserved it. He knew that now. Not from Alexander though, from Ian. 

Mickey was and still is horrible to Ian. He knows this now. That’s why Ian leaves and it’s why he should hit him. It makes his throat clamp up but it’s right. 

Ian turned his body fully to Mickey, he crossed his legs and looked into his eyes. Ian looked so worried still. Mickey figured he was the cause. He always was, “You do not deserve that. You know that right?” 

Mickey hummed, “Well-”

“No, wells. No buts. You don’t. Ever.”

Mickey rolled his eyes and scoffed. He didn’t speak. 

“Do you think I deserve to be hit?”

Mickey snapped his neck sideways. That was the last thing he wanted Ian to think.  _ Why do I always mess up?  _

“No. What makes you think that?”

“Then why do you think you do deserve to be hit? How is it different?”

“Because I’m an asshole, Gallagher. I fuck up and make you all pissed off. It’s whatever.”

Then Ian asks a different question. One that makes his blood fucking boil.

“Why didn’t you fight back? I thought you would,” 

Of course, he did. He thought Mickey would hurt him, he always does. He always ends up hurting Ian. Mickey’s throat tightened and his eyes started to water. Why did this always happen? Why? Why does he have to hurt Ian? Why does he have to hurt the only fucking good thing left in his life?

When Mickey spoke, it came out quiet, “I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” Ian was about to speak but Mickey cut him off, “I know I do. I hurt you and that’s why you have every right to hit me. Kick me, beat me, leave me, whatever. I understand. It’s what I get.”

Ian touched his arm, his stupidly big hands felt so warm against Mickey’s skin. It made Mickey flutter and do that girly shit people talked about in movies. 

“I don’t want to hurt you either, you know. Yeah, we hurt each other’s feelings and we hit each other, which again, we need to stop doing, but none of that means we deserve it. Mickey, you looked scared. Like you thought I was gonna fucking kill you or something, Why?”

He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to think about it. About him. He wondered where he was a lot but always shuddered at the thought of him finding Ian and him. He just wanted this to be over. Fine, whatever, they won’t hit each other, he just wants to sleep. 

“What’s with the twenty questions?”

“Did you think I was gonna kill you? How badly did you think I wanted to hurt you?” Ian’s voice raised.  _ Ian thinks I’m scared of him. Cocky son of bitch.  _

“It wasn’t you. I was thinking of-” he didn’t mean to say it. He never means to say it but he does anyway.  _ God, why do I have to be so stupid?  _

“Who? Your dad?” Ian shuffled closer. Mickey could say yes. He could say it was Terry’s fault because in a way it was. It always traced back to him. But that wasn’t who he was thinking of. He could say it was his father and end the conversation but that would be lying and they promised they would stop doing that.  _ Stupid Ian and his stupid rules.  _

“Alexander.”

Ian was quiet, probably searching his brain for some kind of mention of the name. 

“Who the fuck is that?” 

Mickey closed his eyes and fell backward onto the bed, Ian followed, “Alexander was this guy I met in Mexico. He was real pretty, like you, you know. I think that’s why I picked him, I might have a type,” he heard Ian laugh through his nose, “so one night when I was drunk, we fucked in this alley. Then I guess we just started seeing each other. He gave me his number and told me if I needed a place to stay, I could crash at his apartment. Turns out I did so we just kept it up. Fucked and all that. It wasn’t serious but I think he wanted it to be. He was so possessive, not, like, in a fun way. Not like he gets jealous and we have a great fuck and go get a beer. He would get mad at me like it was my fault some girl wanted to hit on me. The first time he hit him, he headbutted me. He didn’t stop though. He just kept going and going until I was bleeding all over the place,” Ian tensed beside and didn’t speak, just listened, “I didn’t leave though. At the time, I just wanted the pain. So he kept doing it. He kept punching me when I did something wrong and I would just take it, “ Mickey was starting to lose his voice but he forced himself to continue. He let all of it lose, all the shit that was brewing over the last couple of years was just flowing out and he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to. 

“It was like that until I heard about your sorry ass and went to save you. He came home, to his apartment,“ he hated calling that place home, this was his home, Ian was, not him, "to me packing. I said I had to leave and he went fucking crazy. That was when I finally fought back.”

Mickey paused again, realizing something on his own, “I didn’t do it for me though. I was just so worried about you that I didn’t think about it. I needed to get to you and he was standing in the way so I took the gun,” Ian tensed again, “calm down, princess. I didn’t kill him, I just knocked him out. Then ran. Like a pussy.”

He meant for that to come out funny. It didn’t though, it came out wheezy and sad. Beside him, Ian sniffled. 

Mickey looked at him, he wasn’t quite crying but he was definitely on the verge of it. 

“The fuck are you crying for?”

“I’m so sorry, Mick. You had to do that alone. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Ian’s voice was low, quiet. Ian moved to his side and placed a hand on Mickey’s face and made him look at him, “Listen to me Mickey, you don’t deserve what he did to you. You don’t deserve what I did to you. I need you to know that.

“You need to know how fucking beautiful and smart and strong you are, yeah? I don’t understand how you don’t see what I see. You’re just so amazing, Mick, you gotta believe me when I tell you how much I love you,” 

Mickey shoved Ian’s hand away and sat up, “Fuck off you sap.”

Ian sat up with him and placed his hands on Mickey’s hips. He gently guided him onto his lap and coiled his arms around his waist, hugging him tight to his chest. He gently pressed a kiss to his jaw. 

“I’m not gonna fuck off. I need you to know this. You don’t deserve the shit you think you do,” Ian noticed that sentence was a little confusing and clarified, “I mean, you don’t deserve to be hit like that. I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry for hitting you.”

Mickey huffed, fully intending on telling Ian that he understood but Ian spoke before he could. 

“Please don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. I was going through some weird shit but I never left because I don’t love you. I left because I thought I would burden you or lose you or whatever. But I promise it was never that I stopped caring about you. I will never stop loving you, Mickey,”

Mickey let himself relax in Ian’s arms, just letting Ian hold him and kiss him and dote on him. 

Ian pulled back, “Okay, we’re not done with this talk by the way but just some ground rules. We don’t hit each other anymore because neither one of us deserve that. And when we fight, I think we need to work on not letting it get too far. Both of us, I mean. If I go too far, I need to know and not by finding you half an hour later and annoying you into telling me.”

Mickey snorted. 

“I’m serious, though. We need to know that kind of shit and remember it. We don’t want to actually fuck each other up.”

“What about you?” 

“Huh?”

“You got all freaked out earlier when I wanted to top you. What was up with that?” 

Ian paused and nodded, like he was working something out in his head, “That’s something we need to talk about too. It wasn’t just the topping thing, it was everything. Not you, just the suddenness of it. I think- shit-” Ian cut himself off and struggled to find the words.

“Yeah, not so easy, is it?” Mickey laughed and Ian smacked his arm. 

“It reminded me of other shit. You calling me a slut and saying I’m your bitch. It’s what guys used to say to me back then. It felt like I had no control over the situation, I don’t want to feel like again.”

Mickey was silent, he rubbed circles into the back of Ian’s head, just below his hairline. 

“Maybe instead of saving up for our own place, we should save up for therapy,” Ian chuckled. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Mickey agreed. 

They didn’t need to figure it out right now. They just needed to hold each other. Just needed to kiss each other and whisper ‘I love you’s” into each other’s ears. 

They stripped out of their clothes and they both threw on sweatpants. It had been a long day and they were both tired. Physically and emotionally. There was a soft ache in Mickey’s eyes when he tried to keep them open for too long to watch Ian undress and get under the covers. 

Ian laid down on his back and placed his hands under his head, stretching out his long body, Mickey watched and slowly put his head down on Ian’s chest.

He felt one hand move to cradle Mickey’s spine and the other hand move to hold Mickey’s hand which was resting on Ian’s chest, next to Mickey’s head. 

They just stayed like that. Ian occasionally drops soft kisses down onto Mickey’s head and whispers how much he loves him. He keeps doing that, keeps giving Mickey little praises and Mickey lets him. 

Mickey lets him because it’s what Ian wants. Mickey lets him because maybe this is what  _ he _ wants. Maybe he wants to be held and cradled and praised by the love of his life who wants to give him that. Maybe he wants to be told how smart and beautiful and strong he is. Maybe he wants to be told how much he is loved and cared for. 

Maybe this is what he deserves. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you liked it, please feel free to tell me what I could do better, open to criticism. Thanks!


End file.
